


Une Belle Histoire

by cutewithoutthee



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: M/M, most likely will not have happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 02:14:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14728031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutewithoutthee/pseuds/cutewithoutthee
Summary: Edward has always realized that things can be stolen away forever with no way to obtain them back.





	Une Belle Histoire

**SPRING**  
Edward didn't give two fucks about the damn weather, that was for sure. Everyone at work wouldn't shut up about it being the first day of spring, like they'd never seen the seasons change before. Big fucking whoop. They did this every year since he'd started his military career two years ago. Spring meant pollen, which made him sneeze, and it meant lots of rain, which he hated. 

He sat at his desk, bored out of his mind, and idly doodled random patterns on the report that was due tomorrow. Everyone was allowed to leave early save for a few people and Edward was not one of them. He laid his head down on the table and groaned. Screw this report; he was tired, hungry, and pissed off. Havoc got to go home early, too! All he'd done that day was take twenty cigarette breaks, fill out three forms, and chat with his deskmates. And Breda too! There was stuff he had to do at home and there he was, stuck at work, working on a stupid report on an uneventful mission. Boy, if he was in charge around here...

He sat up and figured he may as well finish up and go home. He was greeted by Mustang, staring at him, arms crossed.

"And what exactly are you looking at?"

"Well, Fullmetal, surely if you have time to rest, that report must be done, yes? I just can't wait to read it." 

That was rich; he'd have to remember that one next time the arrogant bastard fell asleep at that seemingly endless stack of papers. Like he was the one to talk about being lazy. 

Edward rolled his eyes and heaved a loud sigh as Mustang read what little there was. "Fuck off, I'm trying to think of what to write. Send me on more interesting missions and maybe I'll have a better report." 

The older man threw the report on top of Edward's briefcase. "Well, you can stay here with me until you figure it out. And stop scribbling on your documents. You're in the military, not grade school." He gave Edward a slap to the back and sat back down to tend to whatever the fuck he had been doing, wearing a triumphant look on his face. 

Edward muttered a string of insults and got back to the report. Alphonse was waiting at home and the last place he wanted to be was here with fuckface for god knew how long. 

Hours passed without incident, but with several cups of coffee (he wasn't sure how Mustang could stomach the stuff black) and somehow he awoke later to a dimly lit office and saw pretty much everyone besides themselves had left. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and noticed his superior was getting ready to leave for the night. How had the time passed so quickly?

"Dammit, Mustang, why didn't you wake me up? What time is it? I told Al I'd be home like forever ago." Half of him was shocked that Alphonse hadn't stormed down to Central; his younger brother always imagined the worse even when nothing had happened. 

"Not to worry. I called him and told him you were here." A wave of relief washed over the boy; the last thing he needed was his brother chewing him out for how irresponsible he was. Mustang collected the last of his belongings and gestured for Edward to do the same. "Come on, I'll take you home. Did you finish your report?"

Edward searched for the damned paper and prayed he'd done enough to consider it done. When it turned up, he handed it over to Mustang. 

He looked over it carelessly and put it with the rest of his papers. "Very well. Let's go."

HQ was always a completely different place at night; though he had only been there so late very few times, it was strange to see the place cleared out without anyone running around, hurrying from one task to the next. Typically lit up to the verge of blinding, the lights were dimmed and the only light coming from the outside was that of the streetlights. Maybe if it was this quiet they could actually get more work done. It was sort of nice - Mustang was probably all too used to it by now.

He was correct in thinking so; stepping into the cool spring air provided relief for the man after being trapped inside the office for over twelve hours. It seemed to have rained quite a bit during his nap. Mustang yawned in a surprisingly polite manner and opened the car door for Edward. 

Rumors suggested Mustang didn't own a lavish house nor did he indulge in a lot of other areas, but boy, he had a nice car. Edward guessed so anyway - then again, Central had nice everything compared to where he came from. Despite his longtime dealings in machinery and things of that nature, he didn't know much about cars. Most people in the country had never seen a car, bicycling or walking being the common method of transport.

Mustang lay his head back on the headrest for a moment, which meant he would fall asleep if nobody intervened. After waiting a few minutes, Edward shook him awake, knowing damn well he likely wasn't good to drive anywhere. He protested and insisted he was okay, that he was used to driving home in worse states (that Edward could actually believe) and that he didn't think Edward's home was too far. Suuuure. Like he'd allow them to crash into a ditch.

However, Edward absolutely did not know how to drive, and Mustang absolutely refused to let him drive his precious car. His guess proved to be right when Mustang explained how his car was one of the nicer models avaliable and that he'd spent more than he cared to share of his yearly bonus in obtaining it. How fitting; an expensive, gaudy car for a self-righteous and flashy man.

Eventually he started the car and started to head home. Edward had spent way too much time with the idiot for today, he decided, and had no desire to deal with any more. He looked out the window and tiredly watched things pass. He rarely was able to ride around in any car, usually deciding to walk home or take the train for farther distances. Daydreaming, he soon noticed they were home sooner than anticipated.

Edward let himself out of the car and started to walk off as Mustang rolled down the window, grabbing a hold of his arm.

"Hey! I'm sorry for not waking you sooner. I got lost in my work and didn't even think of it." He gestured towards what Edward assumed to be his files. "About the report...I'm sure whatever you've written here is passable. Don't worry. Just go to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

Edward gave a doubtful look and waved the man off, seeing him leave only after Alphonse let him inside. 

Tonight he felt like a bath, which was rare, but he knew how to take care of his automail well enough. With the rain and the day's events, he may actually get some quality rest tonight. Things in general were becoming complicated and crazy; so many things to remember, places to be, tasks to be done. It was tiring, to say the least. Alphonse had bugged him to no end when he arrived home and Edward really did not feel like explaining.

He decided he would forget all that for the time being and sit to think. Something was still bothering him in his core and he didn't know what.

_\-----_

Naturally Mustang had issues with the report the following day.

Edward pouted, then pouted again when Mustang appeared amused at the display of immaturity. 

"You said it would be fine. Last night. Do you remember?" He puncuated this by crossing his arms and giving his best impression of a serious, mature subordunate.  
Mustang turned the pages over, looking only mildly interested. "Yes, I do remember. And if YOU remember, I was in a state of such that I could barely drive you home." He shut the report and threw it on a thick stack with some other stack. "You're welcome, by the way."

That was enough, Edward decided.

"I don't recall asking you to take me home. However, I do recall that stack of big important papers was exactly the same size as it was yesterday morning." Edward declared, slamming his fist on the table and, contented with himself, continued sipping from the drink Mustang offered earlier. Boy, that man could rile him up. 

Mustang leaned back in his chair, hands folded in his lap with an unreadable but somehow unbothered look. Finally, he just shrugged and continued whatever work was before him. "I suppose you're right, dear Edward."

Something seemed to pass between them, not just a silence but a look that carried with it a knowing feeling. Maybe they'd both recognized it, because in that moment they shared a genuine laughter. Edward had never considered the man could muster up anything of the sort, but as Mustang returned to his work with the slightest of a smile, he felt himself questioning many things in this world.

_\-----_

It was a slightly downcast but nevertheless cheery afternoon that Edward found himself and his brother searching through Central Headquarter's expansive and impressive collection. Research was hitting a wall as of late and neither of them had the slightest clue where or who to turn to. Whenever they found themselves in such a predicament, studying whatever books they could find always seemed to be the cure. 

The problem was that as expansive and impressive as Central's library may be, they had read most if not all of these books once, some several times. This was a major hindrance that kept popping up; people would mean well and offer suggestions, but more than likely they'd both read the works or followed the lead offered to them. Not to forget, Hohenheim had quite the array of alchemical literature himself, which inevitably was the start of their interest in the practice.

But sometimes re-reading material could prove useful. There was often things not noticed or considered the first time that turned out to be rather important later on. Edward could be meticulous and borderline obsessive with research - a perfectionist when it came to his studies, he would read the same chapters repeatedly until he practically memorized them all. While Alphonse was also a very good student, it was never in such an extreme degree. He often stared at his brother while deep in his work, wondering how in the hell he could strain his eyes that long and wishing slightly he himself had eyes to strain.

It was that kind of day, and Edward was definitely in a mood. As mentally advanced and intelligent he was, not even he was free from teenage mood swings, which were extremely prevalent lately. Edward was aggravated that he was getting nowhere, that he'd already poured over these books dozens of times, that he had a lot of work to do. 

He kicked his stack of books and heaved a frustrated, moody sigh. "I swear to God, I'm so fucking sick and tired of this shit! What the fuck do they get paid to do here!? You would think they'd give a shit and get new books after God knows how fucking long." 

Alphonse tried his hardest to (quietly) reason with him, to little avail. Heaven have mercy for anyone or anything that mildy inconvenienced his brother, he thought, annoyed, and heaven have mercy for the poor souls who had to deal with him when he was in a mood for a tantrum.

But Edward was absolutely not in the mood himself to be told otherwise. Turning to pick up the books, stopped dead in his tracks.

Mustang was definitely not who he was wanting to see. 

"I would like to remind you that you are in a library, and I promise you if those books are in any way damaged you will be held responsible." With an infuriatingly smug face, he placed each book back where they belonged. "I assure you most people would be grateful to have such a collection at their disposal...free of charge, I might add."

Suppressing the urge to slap that look off his damn face, Edward let him put the books back and made no effort to help. "Most people would be grateful that I not fuck their shit up for treating me like a retard."

Whether in a foul mood or simply minding his business, he made one hell of a spectical wherever he went. Unlike his brash and loudmouthed older brother, Alphonse was embarrassed to attract negative or unwanted attention - especially when he knew his brother was making a fool of himself.

Mustang was naturally unphased by any of this; he knew Edward was going through the changes and instead waited somewhat impatiently for him to be quiet and mind his manners.

Deflated, Edward stared and challenegd him with crossed arms and eagerly waited for the rebuttal.

"Yes, Edward? Is there something you'd like to say? Are you going to behave like the adult you so vehemently beg to be treated as?" It seemed impossible for someone to have such a wide variety of smackable, idiotic smiles, each one their own brand of complacency. 

Giving his best impression of a big, mature, and apathetic adult, Edward muttered several indecencies and pretented to ignore him browse the shelves for more books. This, he hoped, would sting.

Mustang watched amusedly, grateful that for the moment the theatrics had ended.

"You know, I've a few things that may be of use to you from back when, most of which you wouldn't find here." 

This Edward didn't doubt; for all the shit he gave Mustang, there was hardly a person that could deny his esteemed alchelmical abilities. He paused for a moment and appeared to think this over. "Interesting," he said, trying to sound somewhat unconvinced, "and what if I asked you if I could take a look at what you have?"

With a look that suggested a vanquishing That's what I thought he patted Edward on the back in a heartily manner. "You know where I live, dear Edward," he stated simply, and walked off without making a scene.

Edward angrily had no idea where to begin with that one, but he figured he would take what he could get, and didn't know yet how hefty the weight of that thought would become.

_\-----_

 

And so Edward found himself waiting outside Mustang's stately but small home, debating if he really wanted to knock or not.

The door opened, creaking as it did so, and with the stopping of his breath he suddenly and inately knew something was conjuring itself inside of him.

"Surely someone must have told you at some point it's impolite to stare." Mustang stated, his typical magnetism more apparent than usual. He did not seem nearly as large and imposing without his usual military regalia on, and it suddenly and stupidly hit Edward that he must have other clothes besides those.

His voice stolen in some moment of (what he chose to call) confusion, he invited himself in and walked past to what appeared to be the living room.

With a haughty upturn of the head he disregarded his host, trying to avoid the sight of Mustang's rather smart slacks, his neatly pressed shirt or his dumb suspenders. He instead chose to explain this to himself as the same sensation one feels when they see a teacher outside of school for the first time and become shocked to see they may have a life besides work. That made a lot more sense and felt a lot easier to illustrate.

"Well Good Afternoon to you too, jackass. Surely someone must have told you at some point that not everyone finds you so helplessly endearing," he accosted, feeling more emboldened than usual, still not sure why.

He didn't need to look to figure out the kind of face his superior must have been wearing. With a sharp clap of the hands Mustang attempted to appear serious. "You are not here today to remind me how ungrateful you are for my help. You are here to study and to borrow my materials, if they turn out useful."

Wordlessly Edward sat down at a worn oak table and waited as Mustang made some sort of a racket in his small kitchen. Had he woken up in a better mood he would have been eager to the prospect of food.

"Not very talkative are we today?" What sounded like a kettle landed on what sounded like a cast iron burner. "Your brother decided to stay home today?"

"No, he said he didn't feel like watching us get into it, whatever that means." 

Mustang regarded this with the slightest laugh and sat across from Edward, folding his hands on the table in front of him. Appearing genuinely amused, he looked Edward over then motioned for him to join him near his books.

It definitely was not what he had expected, that was for sure. There were some books Edward had not even heard of, or had at least never been able to find on his own. It was easy to forget the man had devoted a lot of his life to his study, despite spending much of that time serving for his country. He was impressed, he was stumped, and he would never admit that aloud. 

Instead he inquired about where one would get such a profound collection of material. Hohenheim's was better, needless to say, but this was an unexpected, formidable contender.

Mustang seemed to think for a moment.

"When I was a boy, I was not very close with my parents. I didn't make many friends. I was an only child, I didn't get very good scores at school, I wasn't generally bright in scholarly matters," He flipped through a book and seemed somewhat detached, but without the usual smugness Edward was more accustomed to. "Someway or another I had heard of hermetics and the idea seemed interesting. It was through this discovered alchemy. 

"When I had begun, I studied many of the basic principles we all must learn; fixity, fusibility...things I know I must not need explain to you. I studied anything I could get my hands on. I became obsessive. I knew I wanted this badly, I wanted to learn things could be created and then undone, how things could be changed into other mediums and matters, how lives could be changed, possibly saved. I was, at one point, an extremely hopeful young man." His faced twisted into that of sorrow, which he tried hard to stifle. A very palpable and depressing silence passed, made more obvious by the sudden screech of the kettle. 

Silently Mustang tended to it and poured into a tea pot, afterwards shutting a window that Edward had not noticed before. Very appropriately the spring weather gave Amestris nonstop rain for the past few days, and today seemed to be the climax of it all. 

There was a lot he was now noticing. How funny, he suddenly mused; he was here to study alchemy and now he was studying affairs of the heart.

That thought made him want to strike himself across the cheek in shame and sudden stupidity. For the first time in history Edward was thankful Roy had returned, hopeful his story could return his mind back to Earth.

Instead the man handed him the book and a cup of tea and sat down at a chair, hands folded gently and delicately on his lap. "You are free to use anything you find, so as long as you take care of them. Some of those books are older than I am, which is saying a lot." 

"You said it, not me."

A half-hearted titter came from Mustang, whose demeanor suddenly changed to an extreme Edward had never seen from him before. It was very evident too much had been said. He never knew it could be possible to feel sorry for the poor bastard.

He used his sudden burst of emotion to dive right into his studies, the entire point of his visit.

Minutes turned into hours without notice, and without incident. Some of these books were too delicate, too rare to handle without care, their age apparent and their value great. Many of them were littered with notes and he recognized it to be Mustang's handwriting; albeit messier, perhaps in moments of extreme trepidation, the sign of an eager student discovering the unknown. Edward smiled slightly, understanding that deeply, his own notes looking much the same.

It did prove to be rather insightful to read through these notes. Certainly he already knew a great deal of these findings but was always the first person to admit he had a lot to learn. There was something strange and intimate about reading through someone elses' private studies; it felt like a sort of diary. His cheeks flushed and he realized Mustang had managed to stay silent for what felt like a long, long time.

He looked over at the alcove near the window. The orange sky from earlier now faded into a deep blue, the light cast on the wall darkening rapidly. The rain beat against the window somewhat quietly, more of a dull thud that blended into the background. 

And sleeping quietly in his chair was Mustang, a certain uneasy calm displayed itself on the man. 

He closed his eyes, taking in some kind of feeling that had no name. 

He was here to study, dammit. Frustrated, he slammed his fist on the table and shut the book he was attempting to read. Mustang awoke with a startle and Edward pretended not to feel bad. 

"Edward, may I remind you that you are to be kind with my books."

"It's fine. I have to go home anyway. Thanks for letting me use your stuff." He collected his things and got up to leave.

Mustang stopped him and went to put on a jacket. "It's already dark and with everything that's been going on, I will not allow you to walk home by yourself. I will take you instead."

It was truly a shock that he had not noticed how late it had gotten. He must have missed dinner, yet he never noticed he was hungry.

"You don't need to do everything for me, you know. I'm not a baby anymore. I think I can manage to walk home myself."

Mustang rolled his eyes. "You may not be a baby but you do need to think of your well-being at times." He pulled Edward by the arm out of the house and shut and locked the door. "Come, get in the car."

Despite protesting and insisting he would be okay he sat in the car anyway, some part of him too tired to move anymore than he had to. He watched as Mustang got in the car and sat for a moment.

"Are you seriously going to do this again? Should I trust you to ever drive me anywhere?"

A contemplative look was on his face and he shook his head, looking very seriously deep in thought.

"What is it? Can I go home now please?"

"You're fifteen now, right..." Mustang said, sounding less like a question and more a statement. "Edward, switch seats with me. You need to start learning these things." He got out of the car without waiting for a response and opened Edward's door.

Panic set itself inside his stomach. There was no way he would be able to operate a car but he knew once Mustang decided on doing something there was no swaying his mind.

Nervously, he sat down and adjusted the seat before any jokes at the expense of his size could be made. Mustang calmly explained where everything was located and how to get started but his mind could not focus. If he wrecked this car there was no telling what his fate would be. 

After a moment of fussing with the mechanics, he managed to get the car in motion, starting slowly. And he would be damned if he let his nerves show. The problem was, he could not see the road ahead of him very far, and was not very familiar with the area he was in. Persistence was his strongest trait, however, and he was set on impressing Mustang with how well he could drive.

"You're doing a very good job, Edward, let me show you how to change gears." Roy lay his hand over Edward's hang and carefully attempted to switch to a higher speed.

Edward ran the car into a street post.

Immediately Mustang ran out to survey the damage, very obviously trying to remain calm and collected. Throwing his head into his hands, Edward instantly knew he was in for it. His entire life flashed before him and he painfully awaited what was next. It wasn't his fault, he decided, he was forced to drive.

The dreaded moment came when Mustang motioned for him to exit the car, sitting back in the driver's seat. Hesitant, Edward got back in the car and sat as silently as possible. A moment passed with no comment, which was even scarier than being berated. He coughed and offered to pay for whatever damage had been done; Mustang sat gripping the wheel, still clearly startled.

"I'm serious! Tell me what I did to the car and you can take it out of my pay. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wreck it..." No doubt there would be a giant bill in his name come morning, he figured.

Choking behind a laugh, Mustang patted his shoulder reassuringly. "You made a dent on the front bumper, Edward, you didn't wreck the whole thing. Come on, don't be upset. You did just fine, I promise."

Edward closed his eyes and sighed in relief. He would live to see another day.

The rest of the drive home was quiet and he could not help but feel embarrassed. He'd made a fool of himself in front of the absolute worst person. But it was not his fault at all! He didn't even want to drive, and Mustang should not have snuck up on him so suddenly! He would be damned if he had to pay a cent for repairs. Most definitely not.

They arrived finally and as Edward was heading out of the car, catching Mustang laughing at the wheel with his head down. At once he knew he would never live this down, ever.

"Are you fucking serious? I get it! I fucked up. You're the one that wanted me to drive the damn thing!" He slammed the door shut and made way for his house.

Mustang tried to catch up to him. "Wait, Edward, please! I promise I'm not making of fun of you, truly. It's just that.." He caught his breath, trying very hard to cease his laughter. "It's just, I should have expected that. You've never driven before and I sort of sprung it on you. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. Please don't be upset with me."

Edward could not remain mad but just to be stubborn would not accept the apology and slammed his front door in his face. This elicited more totally unprofessional and extremely rude laughter, forcing Edward to kick at the door in rebuttal. 

Instantly Alphonse checked to see what in God's name was going on. He followed his brother into their bedroom, witnessing another melodramatic mood swing. Edward lay on the bed and pouted which reassured that whatever happened was not as serious as it was made to be.

 

Aimlessly, Edward threw a pillow that bounced off Alphonse's armor and landed on the floor with a defeated thud. "I wanna be alone right now, leave me alone."

Ignoring this, he sat down next to the bed. "And what exactly just happened?" 

Edward drew pointless patterns on the floor and ignored his brother, trying to prove some kind of a point. Alphonse had ideas forming in his head that he wouldn't dare share, knowing he would be met with a fist to the face. Not that he would feel it. It would just aggravate him further. "Mustang thinks he's such a big deal with his fancy car and his stupid house. He made me drive his car cause apparently I'm old enough to learn. Then he laughed in my face because I crashed the car." 

Alphonse himself wanted to laugh at the ridiculous mental image. He really wished he had been there to witness this. "You mean that car he's so proud of? Why would he let you drive it and why would you crash it?" 

"He fucking was trying to change gears or some shit and grabbed my hand and it scared me and I didn't know what to do. My stomach is in knots right now. I'm so pissed off I can barely think."

In that moment Alphonse was glad he did not have a face that could show expression.

"Oh, come on, you sound like a little girl. Be glad he trusts you enough to drive that thing, you always complain he treats you like a kid." More pillows met his chest and he had half a mind to throw them back; ultimately he knew he needed to at least try to empathize. 

"Oh, shut the fuck up, I'm seriously so mad I could scream and kick. You think I'm making a big deal about nothing. Well, I tell you. I'm going to show up tomorrow for my next mission and give him a piece of my mind."

Edward buried his face in his mattress. Alphonse put his hands on his hips and waited impatiently. "Are you at least going to get something for dinner? Did you eat yet?"

"Oh Christ, you sound like him now. Leave alone!" He shoved Alphonse out of the room and slammed the door shut; he had done this so often the hinges looked ready to detatch at any second.

One time when they were kids, Winry had developed a crush on some neighbor kid named Georg but refused to admit it. Of course this was in part due to the fact that both Ed and Al had teased her mercilessly over it, but no matter what anyone said, she swore she hated Georg and found him boring and stupid. Over time she forgot about him and it ended, like most childhood crushes do.

Alphonse was always better at putting two and two together than anyone had thought. There was always a lot happening in his mind that he didn't let anyone know. He did remember that Edward loved calling Winry a whiny liar when she went on about Georg in any capacity, and she would have a hysterical tantrum whenever she was called out on her lies. Naturally Edward remembered this a lot differently, claiming he was always supportive in her quests to obtain poor Georg's love.

He made a mental note to call Winry later and ask her if she remembered this. He also needed to know a few other things too, like how to tell his brother that there seemed to be a new Georg among them.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if there are any grammatical or spelling errors! English is not my first language but I try my best lol
> 
> Aaaand then I realize I forgot to give a summary and tags. This is what happens when you publish something on no sleep.


End file.
